The Chronicler
by Cassandra Truths
Summary: Dean has an...informative...encounter. Mild crack. Set mid-season 8. Spoilers.


The Chronicler

The last thing Dean remembered was some chick buying him a drink at the bar. She had been attractive enough to tempt him, but no more. He really wasn't in the mood for that sort of thing. But he'd accepted the drink and returned her smile.

Now he was tied to a chair in a motel room, a strip of duct tape over his mouth. As he groggily took in his surroundings, he saw the very same chick sitting on the other side of the room. She'd traded her low-cut blouse and skintight jeans for more comfortable clothing, and her brown hair was pulled severely back from her face. She nodded when she noticed his eyes opening.

"Good, you're awake," she said briskly. "I've never used Rohypnol on anyone before and I didn't know how long it would take to wear off."

"You _rufied_ me?" Dean tried to protest, but it came out muffled through the tape.

The woman got to her feet and crossed over to him. "I'm going to take the tape off, but if you make too much noise or cuss at me, it goes back on." She ripped off the tape without care how much skin she took with it.

"Who the hell are you, crazy bitch?" Dean growled. The woman flicked his forehead.

"What did I just say?" she said, not sounding too annoyed. "I'm Elizabeth, the Chronicler."

Dean blinked at that. "The who?"

"The Chronicler," Elizabeth repeated. "Someone had to continue the Winchester Gospels after Chuck left, and Kevin's a bit busy." She dragged her chair closer while Dean stared at her. She sat down, pushed her glasses back up her nose, and propped her elbows on her knees.

"How the hell can you even do that?" Dean felt his heart sink even indignation and fury rose.

"Someone upstairs gave me front row tickets to the Winchester and Winchester show," Elizabeth said with a careless shrug. "You aren't supposed to know about me. I wasn't ever supposed to meet you in person, but I honestly couldn't help myself."

Dean smirked. "I'm just that awesome, aren't I?"

Elizabeth scowled. "No, Dean. I came to give you a piece of my mind."

He matched her scowl. "About what?"

She glared at him. "Stop whining."

Dean abruptly lost what little amusement he had been getting from this encounter, as well as the remainder of his already frayed patience. "Listen, bitch, I don't care what the dicks with wings are showing you, you have no right to—"

As soon as he had started talking, Elizabeth got to her feet, walked over to the table, and picked up a roll of duct tape. She ripped off a new piece and slapped it over Dean's mouth before he could protest. "I told you not to cuss at me," she said mildly.

Dean glared hatred and murder at her silently.

She stayed where she was, crouched in front of him. "I've seen a lot of scary stuff writing your story, Dean. And I have to say, you and your brother are pretty amazing. I mean, you saved the world. The ultimate unsung heroes. But lately you have gotten pretty annoying."

She stood up and returned to her chair. "I get that you went to Purgatory. I saw pretty much every moment, trust me. It sucked, I know. But get the hell over yourself, Dean."

Dean blinked at her again, temporarily forgetting that he was furious.

Elizabeth leaned forward. "Sam was in the Cage for a hundred and eighty years, Dean. Think about that for a second. A hundred and eighty years trapped with the most evil, sadistic being in all of creation. You thought Alastair was bad? Lucifer was a thousand times worse. I'm sorry, but one year in Purgatory doing what you do best, along with your angel bff, just doesn't cut it."

Dean glared again and tried to speak. Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm not taking the tape off. I want you to listen to me. You don't have the right to complain about Purgatory Dean. Sam's got you beat to pieces when it comes to bad vacations."

She pushed her glasses back up again. "And this whole 'boohoo Sammy didn't look for me' thing? Bullshit. For one thing, _he didn't know you were in Purgatory_. And even if he had guessed, he would have needed a solar eclipse to open the doorway. Newsflash, Dean. Eclipses—not all that common. And Death is not his bitch to whistle one up whenever he wants. Also, I should not have to tell you how monumentally stupid it would have been for Sam to open a doorway to Purgatory without major back-up."

Despite the tape, Dean tried to retort, muffled sounds coming from behind the gag. Elizabeth gave him a warning look. "Shut up," she instructed. "Think about Sam's position. He'd lost Bobby, he'd lost Cas, and he'd lost you. He'd literally been through Hell. He'd given everything to this job and it chewed him up and spat him out. He had absolutely no one left. You should just be grateful Sam didn't just pull the Impala over to the side of the road and eat a bullet."

Dean's eyes widened at that, the horror of the image thudding home. Elizabeth nodded when she saw the realization dawn. "I honestly don't care about what you do next, Dean," she said wearily. "I have no desire to get involved in your life. I just write things down. But please, for the sake of my sanity, stop bitching at Sam. It gets old."

She got up and walked over to the table. "Here are you car keys and the key to this room," she said, putting both on the table. "I already texted Sam to meet you here in half an hour. He can untie you. Don't try to find me. You won't be able to."

She walked over to the door and opened it. She turned back at the last moment. "Elizabeth isn't my real name," she commented, and disappeared.

Dean glared at the closed door as a car engine started and faded away. Over the next half hour he tried to use his anger to keep himself from thinking about what the Chronicler had said, but it was no use. The idea of Sam ending it all kept circling around his head like a vulture.

When a knock finally sounded on the door, Dean only felt relief. "Dean?" Sam called from the other side. When Dean didn't answer, Sam tried the knob. The door swung open and Sam stuck his head in. His eyes widened when he saw Dean trussed up like a Christmas turkey. He hurried over and peeled back the tape.

"Are you okay?" he demanded. "What happened?"

"You are never going to believe me," Dean replied.


End file.
